This is how I know myself...

I had the most excellent adventure at my writing class this week... We read a poem by Joy Hargo named "Protocol". The last two lines of the poem are "This is how I know myself. This is how I know who you are." For our opening write (kinda like warm-ups!) we were supposed to write starting with one of these lines...

This is what I wrote...

This is how I know myself…

I know myself as a quiet mouse. Skimpering behind the scenes, unbeknownst to those in the forefront. Following behind at a safe distance, close enough to hear but far enough to go unseen. Perhaps the plant behind the TV or the trinket behind the glass on the wall.

Occasionally, I jump off my stand or fall from high up on the wall, making a loud crash or breaking into pieces, scattering debris in all directions. I hurry quickly to gather all my pieces and put them back together as best I can. But it seems that every time I crash or every time I break, it becomes harder to put the pieces back together in a tight fit. So what this leaves is a rough creation, jagged in spots, with holes in others. Large cracks that lead to mismatched pieces. This is how I know myself…

On rare occasions, I find myself disassembled on the floor. And rather than quickly gathering my parts together in mismatched form, I allow them to sit, staring at each other. Noticing each other’s wounds and glories. Seeing the depths of the infections but also the scars left from healed wounds. This is when I really begin to know myself…

Then the next exercise was Renga, Japanese writing where one person starts by writing 3 lines, then the next person adds 2 more lines, the next 3 lines and the last person 2 more, creating a 10 line poem... the challenge of the exercise is to listen and hear the writing of the first person and to continue in the rhythm and style that they are using.

This is the collaboration that came out from my first three lines...

This is how I know myself...

On rare occasions I find myself disassembled on the floor.
Rather than quickly gathering my parts together in mismatched form
I allow them to sit, staring at one another

Slowly a pattern emerges, different from before
Allowing me a glimpse of another self

The darker bits are oddly comforting,
Cushioned as they are
Between family heirlooms and the prairie sun.

I know who I am
Strong, beautiful & ready for others to know me

I was astonished at the result. I have known the people in the class for under two months... I see most of them for 2 hours once a week... but this is what they come up with when they listened to my opening write and to some of my other selected writings in the last two months... It was so cool...

The lesson I learned on this day... courtesy of a wise wise man - It's not in the holding yourself together as one who can do it all, it is in the honesty of wrestling aloud, being truthful with sorrow and joy, admitting the struggles, and choosing to engage the pain rather than ducking that we truly know ourselves and allow others to know us and to journey with us.